


Certified Miserable People

by antioedipus



Category: Naruto, Tokyo Mew Mew, Vampire Knight (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/F, F/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Sasuke/Karin, Mentions of Zakuro/Minto, Mentions of Zero/Yuuki, Mentions of homophobia, Neji's Chaotic Anbu Team, Psychiatric evaluations, Psychological Trauma, References to Depression, Tenten is happy and well-adjusted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28464738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antioedipus/pseuds/antioedipus
Summary: Every year, Neji and his Anbu team have to do psychiatric evaluations. They never end well."No one on the team believed Shikamaru when he told them that he thought they would like their doctor this year. Neji and Zakuro had kept a flat affect, while Zero shrugged. Sasuke rolled his eyes. Sai’s jaw sat tight on his face. Tenten was the only one who smiled, even then, it was to be polite.Shikamaru would like to think that this year will be the year that he receives psychiatric evaluations that don’t depress him. It’s his one hope in this world.Needless to say, it does not materialize."
Relationships: Sai/Tenten (Naruto)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 6





	Certified Miserable People

“We always love in the past, and passions are first and foremost an illness proper to memory”

Gilles Deleuze

Not every therapist’s office looks the same, but there are, generally, a few things you will find in every room. A comfortable chair or, if you’re lucky, a couch. A plant, either alive, artificial or dead. A few degrees on the wall, so that you know you are talking to a qualified professional. The palate is neutral if not warm. Maybe a few stuffed animals. A few framed motivational quotes. Therapists, unlike other professionals with desks, don’t typically have lots of photos of their family up. They don’t want you to get overly attached.

After years of complaining about it, Shikamaru finally said _fuck it_ when he assigned the psychiatrist who would be evaluating Neji’s Anbu team this year. Previously, he would always ensure that they got a cheery, happy doctor. Someone who might, you know, help them. But every year, there is a new complaint. Too happy. Cloying. Irritating. Insipid. Vacuous. Shikamaru’s personal favorite was when asked how last year’s psychiatric evaluations went, Zero replied _I didn’t blow my brains out_. Kakashi did not think that was funny, especially considering the fact that Zero owns several guns, so he sent them back for another round of evaluations, which just made them all grumpy, even Tenten.

So, this year, Shikamaru is going to save them all a headache, and work from the premise that none of these people will ever get better.

No one on the team believed him when he told them that he thought they would like their doctor this year. Neji and Zakuro had kept a flat affect, while Zero shrugged. Sasuke rolled his eyes. Sai’s jaw sat tight on his face. Tenten was the only one who smiled and even then, it was to be polite.

Shikamaru would like to think that this will be the year that he receives psychiatric evaluations that don’t depress him. It’s his one hope in this world.

Needless to say, it does not materialize.

**

Zakuro walks into the office first. She requested a morning appointment. She plans to go see Sakura for her doctor’s appointment after. The older she gets, the more Zakuro recognizes her mother’s mannerisms within herself. Little things, like the way she walks into a room and immediately sizes everything up based on the furniture. Zakuro knows, for a fact, that she wrinkles her nose the way her mother does.

As she sits down in the chair, she frowns as it sinks under her weight. _Cheap._ She frowns at how quickly she came to that conclusion. _My mother would be proud._ It pains her to affirm that she, indeed, came out of her mother. They don’t talk. Her mother sends a care package at Christmas from America, but that is the extent of their communication. Her mother doesn’t approve of the fact that Zakuro isn’t the person she wanted her daughter to be. Most parents would be thrilled to have a daughter like Zakuro, but not her mother.

It’s one of life’s cruelest ironies, that Zakuro actually looks a lot like her mother.

She is wearing a black, sleeveless sheath dress. It falls to her mid-thigh, and she wears suede, heeled boots that come up to the top of her thigh. Only her arms are bare. Tenten told her that she looks like a spy, which isn’t exactly the look she is going for, but it works. She crosses her right leg over her left and sets her hands on her lap. She keeps her bag next to her on the seat.

She sizes up the therapist. She is a middle-aged woman. She has dark hair, kooky glasses. She wears a pink cardigan, with rhinestone buttons. It’s hard to tell if it is meant to be a self-aware, ironically bad outfit, or if this is what the doctor believes to be tasteful. She has a loose posture, sitting crooked in her seat. She does not have the posture of an intelligent being. Neji would refer to this woman as a mammal, not a human. He’s an asshole like that, but he wouldn’t be wrong.

Zakuro dreads these evaluations. They all do. She gets the jitters for the week leading up to it, and she finds it hard to sleep. It’s stressful, having to rehash the past every year as if you don’t live with it every day.

“Hello Zakuro, how are you today?” the doctor asks, after introducing herself. The name doesn’t register.

“I’m fine.” Zakuro replies. You’d think after years of this, she would be able to relax. But it doesn’t matter how many times she visits the doctor. She will always flinch at actual and non-actual prodding. It’s a hang up from her days as an idol. Fame is a trauma. She feels like she will always be twelve.

“Okay,” the doctor says, overly cheerful. Her voice is grating. “Well, I’ll let you know that I’ve already read your past evaluations. Lots of interesting material. I’ve never spoken to a celebrity before.”

“Former.” Zakuro corrects her. “I’m not an idol anymore.”

“Accomplished dancer, idol, polyglot, a degree from an American university, a Mew, now serving in Anbu,” the doctor lists off her achievements like they actually mean something. Zakuro smiles politely.

“I’m an achiever.” She’s a Virgo. Nitpicky and compelled towards excellence. She said that to Zero once, and he asked if that’s how she thinks her life turned out: _excellent_.

“No over?” the doctor asks. Zakuro shrugs.

“I have the perfect level of accomplishment. I’m even.” She looks at her cuticles.

“But you’re dying,” is uttered in a hum. Zakuro’s face twists. _I’m dying._ Sakura said she has another twenty years, at least, but she will never be fifty.

“It’s why I came to Konoha,” she says, “for treatment. It works. My lifespan has been extended.” Considerably. In Tokyo, she was staring down thirty-five.

She left her friends behind. She left Minto behind. Zakuro taps the pointer of her right hand on the back of the left. Once, twice. It’s been five years, and she still wonders where Minto is. Has she moved on? Did she go to college in England? Is she okay? Zakuro left, with no warning, because she didn’t know how to tell Minto that it’s over, that she’s dying, and Minto deserves someone who can give her a lifetime.

Now, here she is, with another thirteen years to go. “Ah,” the doctor says, writing on her notepad. It’s yellow and lined; legal pad. She hasn’t seen one of those in a while. “Yes, you’re facing a terminal condition, estranged from family, alternative lifestyle…”

“Alternative lifestyle?” Zakuro asks.

“Yes. Would you like to talk about it today?”

“My alternative lifestyle?”

“Yes,” the doctor smiles. Zakuro can see all of her too-white teeth.

“You mean the fact that I am a lesbian?” She blinks. “There is nothing to talk about.”

“Oh, I disagree,” the doctor says, “all your previous evaluations note promiscuity, reckless sexual encounters…”

“Having sex with different women, without commitment, is not a bad thing.” Zakuro crosses her arms, sitting back. “This conversation feels homophobic.”

“How so?”

“Well, would you ask a straight person why they are sleeping around? Would you want to ask so many questions about their sexuality?” she asks.

“I’m not interested in who you sleep with, I want to know why.” The doctor says this as if it weren’t a ridiculous question.

“Dunno. I like perky breasts. I guess there are a lot of those in Konoha.” Zakuro sits back in her chair, smirking at the expression on the doctor’s face. She feels like she has won something.

**

Sai sits down in the chair. He had to take his cat to the vet this morning, so he is here early. The doctor is a mostly pleasant, middle-aged lady. She is the kind of lady who really likes Sai. If he met her at the grocery store, she would call him a nice young man and try to give him the number of a young, single woman in her life.

He feels confident that he will be able to deal with this doctor. The last few have been the kind who don’t let you charm your way out of talking about your problems. It’s not that Sai thinks he is well-adjusted. He is not. _But_ he does think he is doing well, emotionally. Maybe not thriving, however, he is content in life. He and Tenten are in a good place in their relationship. He has a cat. There is no big, evil entity they have to contend with. All their missions are variations of Monster of the Week. Life is, if not easy, fair. And he never thought he would ever get to the place where he would sincerely put the words ‘life’ and ‘fair’ in the same sentence.

Sai is content with where he is. He doesn’t want to get better, because he is happy. He has an easy, simple life.

He hates these evaluations because they tear a hole in his fantasy of psychic cohesion. Last year’s psychiatrist made him talk about the brutal conditioning of Root and his inability to tell Tenten about his feelings of inadequacy. It was emotionally draining, and Sai napped for three hours after. Tenten had to come in and wake him up for dinner.

But that won’t happen this year, because he can tell that this doctor is the kind of woman who finds his cheerful indifference charming. He smiles to himself, anticipating how easy this evaluation will be. He and Tenten made plans to get ice cream after their evaluations. Maybe he will get two different flavors, instead of just one _. Decisions, decisions_. He is already trying to decide which combination he wants.

“Sai, is it?” the doctor asks. He nods, sitting up straight. Sai is wearing his black trousers and a sweater. He purposefully dressed in a quasi-professional manner. Being put together is the key to being perceived as a well-adjusted, cohesive person.

“It is,” he replies, smiling. The doctor tilts her head, looking at him like he is a particularly charming young man. He relaxes. This part he knows how to play well.

“So, Sai, how are you today?” she asks.

“Just perfect,” he says, with complete sincerity. Finally, a psychiatric evaluation that feels like a mere bureaucratic hurdle, and not a ruthless interrogation of all of Sai’s faults. “How are you?” The doctor smiles at him. His teammates are quite rude. With the exception of Tenten, none of them will ask her how she is.

“That’s lovely to hear,” she says, “I was reading over your past evaluations, and I have to say, Sai, you have shown some tremendous growth.” He smiles, big. Well, not _big_ —but big for him.

“I work hard to be the best I can be,” he says. This, of course, is a lie. But he will say whatever he needs to get out of there.

“Tell me, Sai,” she says, “how did you do it?” Sai blinks. He knows he has changed, but he didn’t think it was this substantial, or that he needed to change at all. Tenten always tells him he’s perfect, while he calls her a ten out of ten. He frowns to himself.

“I suppose I simply grew up.” Sai recovers his smile, but the doctor is giving him a hard look.

“Hm.” She says. He can feel the ruthless inventory of all his faults beginning to rumble in his head. _Stay neutral_. That’s what Neji would do, and his evaluations never phase him. “Well, let’s start the evaluation and see if we can find some answers, then.”

Sai doesn’t swear, but he spends a lot of time with people who do. _Shit_ is the first word that comes to mind. _Fuck_ is a close second.

**

Zero sighs as he walks into the office. His hands are in his pockets, and he is wearing a button down that Zakuro made him buy. He hasn’t tucked it into his pants and the top two buttons are open. He just didn’t feel like buttoning them up. He got to the top and simply gave up. It’s little things like this that Yuugao, Zakuro and Tenten are always on his back about. _Are you eating? When was the last time you washed that? Are you ever going to at least try and look like you want to meet a girl?_ His answers are always: _yes, a week ago_ and _never_. It’s nice to be taken care of, he supposes. He has lived here for five years, and he still isn’t used to their care. It should make him feel loved, but mostly, it makes him miss Yuuki and his mom.

He sits down on the chair, resting his elbows on the arms as he sits back. The doctor eyes the seal on his neck. He is used to people looking at him funny, especially if they know what he is before meeting him.

“The vampire,” the doctor says. She wears an ugly pink sweater, and her pen has a pompom on the end of it. _Great_.

“I have a name.” He crosses his arms. The woman smiles. He can tell she is doing it to placate him, so he merely blinks back.

“Excuse me,” she says, “Zero.”

“Yes?”

“How are you today?” she asks. Her voice is overly warm, like she wants to make him think she is his mom. It rankles him. He will only ever have one mother. She is dead.

“Alive, still.” He says. Zero stole that one from Sasuke. The doctor blinks at him.

“Still?” she asks. “Is there a reason that you wouldn’t be walking amongst the living?” Zero shrugs, not committing to an answer. _Can you walk amongst the living when you are a member of the undead?_ It’s why he thinks the idea of vampires being immortal is so funny; they are already, in technical terms, dead. Well, in the movies at least. Vampirism is a virus; he still has a heartbeat, and his body is aging. It’s all just slowed down. Life extends before him. It’s really not fair.

He and the doctor blink at each other for a minute, and he finds a certain satisfaction in her looking back down at her notes. “I’ve read over your past evaluations.” Her voice is prim, and he can tell that she is going to say something that will annoy him. “Your file is substantial,” she says, “you’ve had a life.” Zero feels his mouth twitch. When he doesn’t respond, she sighs. “Zero, I need you to cooperate with me.” He frowns.

“How am I being resistant?” he asks. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“That’s not the right attitude to have,” she says, “you have to come in here and at least look like you want to try.” He narrows his eyes. _What would the right attitude be?_

“Try what?” he asks. No one on his Anbu team ever looks like they _try_. They just _are_. He wonders if he is being singled out in this respect.

“Try to get better,” she says. Zero snorts. How exactly, _pray tell_ , is he supposed to get better when he, theoretically speaking, has thousands of years to go? Trauma doesn’t have an expiry date. He will always be that twelve year old boy who watched his parents be murdered and his little brother willingly go with their murderer, as much as he will always be the teenager who was manipulated by other people into becoming ‘the strongest’ vampire hunter, like _that_ is an accomplishment worth all the suffering involved to get there. Parents; dead. Little brother; dead. Yuuki; alive and the mother of a child fathered by the man who is the direct cause of all the immense suffering in Zero’s short life.

Toga is alive, so he supposes that is worth something.

So, no. He doesn’t see the point in trying to get better. He merely lives to serve. He’s in Anbu because it eats so much of his schedule that he can’t go on as many missions as the Hunter Association would like. He’s the kind of abomination that kills his own kind. Few know that about him. He’s convinced that he is beyond saving. All he can do it laugh at how incredibly fucked up his life is.

“Why are you laughing?” she asks. Zero collects himself.

“It’s just funny that, all my life, I have been shaped into a weapon, and now my employer, who directly benefits from said weaponization, has ethical concerns.” Zero shrugs, “it’s sort of perverse.”

“Perverse,” she makes a face as she jots that down. “that’s an interesting choice of words.”

“Interesting is a vague term.” He replies.

“How so?” tilting her head, the woman looks at him like she has no clue.

“You’re not telling me what you really think,” he shrugs, “you’re just telling me that it isn’t boring.”

“No one would call your life boring.” She replies. Zero rolls his eyes, like _, okay_.

“Is it the vampire thing?” he asks. She tilts her head.

“The vampire thing?” she replies.

“Yeah, that thing.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “The thing has obnoxiously extended my lifespan.” The doctor nods, writing this down.

“Well, you caught the virus at a young age…” she says.

“Infected.” He corrects her. “I was intentionally exposed to the virus.” Not for the first time, he curses Shizuka.

“Infected. Do you always take such a passive stance when you talk about your life?” she hums. Zero looks at her like she is an idiot.

“I was _twelve_ ,” he replies. “What was I supposed to?”

“You tell me,” she says with an impassive face. Zero isn’t as angry as he once was, so he resists the urge to punch a hole in the wall, however, he does allow himself to glare at her.

“This doesn’t feel like compassionate care,” he says. The doctor smiles.

“That depends on your definition of compassion.” She remarks. Zero clenches his jaw. This won’t be pretty.

**

Sasuke doesn’t see the point in living. He’s not suicidal. He has just come to the conclusion that life just exists. There’s no point, or end goal. It just perpetuates itself. He said this to Tenten once, and she tilted her head with concern. _But what do you think Naruto and Sakura would do without you?_ Tenten asked. She obviously misunderstood his words and Sasuke saw no reason to correct her. _They would achieve self-actualization_. She looked at him funny, but she didn’t say anything about it.

He wishes he had someone he could talk to about his feelings. Someone who wouldn’t judge him for not always liking himself. Naruto and Sakura are like his mom and dad, in the sense that he feels bad for expressing anything that could be perceived as ingratitude towards them. They have done so much for him. They deserve better.

He wears his work uniform. It’s supposed to be his day off, but he couldn’t think of anything better to do then sit and read files all day. So, here he is. Looking like he really cares about his job, when he is only there because it is the closest thing he can find to a consistent challenge around here.

“Sasuke,” the doctor says, “how are you today?” He shrugs. He isn’t anything, at least, not yet. She will probably piss him off somehow. It’s how these things work. “Not very talkative, are you?”

“Not really,” he replies. He does talk. Just not to people who want to tell him what to do.

“Well, how about we start with how you’re feeling today.”

“I don’t feel much,” he replies. It’s the truth. Unless Karin is around to ask him about his feelings, it never occurs to him to pay attention to his emotions. Speaking of, he hasn’t heard from Karin in a few weeks. Maybe she has come to the conclusion that their relationship is perpetually unfulfilling, all on her own.

“Well, what are you doing with your life?” the doctor asks.

“Breathing.” Sasuke replies. He doesn’t think ahead much. The doctor tilts her head.

“Just breathing?” she asks. Sasuke nods. She looks down at his file. “No more criminal activity?” Sasuke narrows his eyes, because while he isn’t that person anymore, he resents when it gets brought up.

“Uh huh,” he says.

“Don’t you want more for yourself?” she asks. Sasuke looks around her office, at posters with sayings like _we all have the same number of hours in the day_ and _you define your own success_. You know, logic for people who are desperate and need something to cling to.

“I’m pretty happy with breathing,” he says. He wouldn’t have blamed anyone for wanting him dead. Sometimes, he wants to be dead. Or, to not exist.

“Well, maybe that will change by the end of our conversation,” she says, smiling.

“Oh? Like maybe I won’t want to breathe anymore?” he asks. The doctor tuts.

“No. Hopefully you will want more.” She says in a bright voice, picking up her mug and sipping. He thinks it is probably tea. She seems like the kind of person who doesn’t like the bitter tang of coffee.

“Neat-o,” he says, using one of Sai’s favorite expressions. He doesn’t do the thumbs up that Sai usually adds. The doctor, apparently, takes this as a good sign.

“Let’s get started,” she hums, and he prepares to piss away an hour of his life.

**

Neji has a talent for assessing situations quickly and effectively. Every variable is considered, each risk calculated. He is very good at his job, which is why he became an Anbu captain at such a young age. He is, emphatically, not an idiot. Neji knows that psychological evaluations are not the time to actually talk about one’s feelings and doubts. They are a time to assert one’s lucidity. Especially for him. He made sure to wear a clean, white shirt and a pair of black trousers. The key to appearing well-adjusted is looking clean and put together.

When he entered the room, he quickly noted the cheap furniture and artificial lighting. He looks at the doctor, with her quirky glasses and ugly sweater, and realizes that it will take a lot of conscious effort to not be a total asshole. She smiles at him, and he nods politely before sitting down. The chair squeaks under his weight, and he frowns _. Surely, we can afford something nicer_.

The doctor pulls out a purple pen with butterflies on it, which is when Neji judges this woman to have completely misunderstood who he is, as a person. _Don’t be an asshole. Don’t be an asshole. Don’t be an asshole_. Sasuke had laughed out loud when Neji said that he wants to be a better person. Even Tenten had looked at him like he had grown a second head.

“Hi Neji,” the doctor says, “how are you?” 

“Fine,” he says, sitting up straight, like he was taught.

“Wonderful,” she says, “this shouldn’t take very long.” Neji chooses to nod silently. He doesn’t want to let on how little he wants to be here. “Have you ever noticed that the cup of tea you make with a reused teabag always cools down faster than if you had used a fresh teabag?”

“No, I haven’t,” he says, withholding the fact that he usually just pitches teabags after one use. Tenten is always pointing out his privileged person habits. Zakuro and Zero are much better at hiding their privilege, and Sasuke’s life as a criminal instilled many frugal habits. Sai, well, he’s just a practical person, like Tenten.

“Well, now you know something new,” the doctor says, “every morning, I have a cup of tea and tell myself that I am my ideal self.” She says this without even a hint of irony. _This woman has the intelligence of a lobotomy_.

“Oh?” he asks, managing to hold back _that works?_

Yes,” she says, “you should try it.”

“Duly noted.” He has no idea how he is going to get through this while keeping up his resolution.

**

Tenten sighs as she plops down on the chair. She always gets stuck with the last appointment, no matter what she does. It’s what she gets for being so laidback. She always books her appointment late, so really, it’s her fault. She doesn’t like how the suede chair feels on the back of her legs. _Can’t we afford better furniture?_ Especially in places where people have to sit all the time. Tenten woke up late, because Sai was already gone for the day.

She is wearing a pair of denim shorts, with a boxy, pink blouse, cropped with a collar. She has a pair of sneakers on, and her hair is in her little buns. She never dresses up for these things. No one else on the team, except maybe Zero, puts in as little effort as she does. _This is why you are all neurotic_ , she said, when she saw the clothes they wore today. Zakuro looks like a spy, Sasuke is in his work clothes, while Sai and Neji are both dressed in clothes they know old ladies like on young men. Zero beats her because he is wearing pants, even though his shirt is untucked, and the top buttons are undone.

“How are you, Tenten?” the doctor asks. Tenten smiles. She thinks the pink sweater is ugly, but kind of cute. Like, cool art teacher quirky.

“I’m alright,” she says, “and you?”

“I am exhausted,” the doctor says, “let’s try and get this done as soon as possible.” Tenten nods.

“That sounds good to me.”

The truth is that these things are more of an inconvenience to her. She really doesn’t need to be evaluated at all. Zakuro has a terminal condition and Sai, Sasuke, Neji and Zero have all been irreparably traumatized, so they should probably be here more frequently, but they wouldn’t come if Tenten wasn’t forced to be here too. Everyone on the team, including Zakuro, is impressed by her emotional stability and general optimism towards life. _How do you do it?_ Tenten shrugged. She doesn’t really try to be happy.

At best, her teammates could learn how to make it look easier than it is for them. Sasuke and Neji made fun of Zero using a gun, until they both failed to hit a moving target. Zero explained that of course he makes it look easy, he’s been a marksman for a long time. Being okay with yourself is like that; it becomes easier with the more time and energy you put into it. She doesn’t know how to say this without being insulting, so she refrains from giving her actual advice. The best she can do is treat them like normal people and encourage them to make functional decisions that make them happy.

The truth is that Tenten just wants them all to be happy, whole people. She would never tell them that their lives have to look a certain way, but she doesn’t want them to be lonely. That’s why Zakuro has lots of sex, Sasuke stays in a dead relationship with Karin and Zero and Neji avoid emotional intimacy. Even Sai can be avoidant, and he is her boyfriend. It’s why she makes them all do things together, even though none of them want to. She doesn’t want any of them to feel alone in the world, which is easy when your family is dead or estranged.

So, she comes to these things without complaining, because it’s what a good person would do. She can’t tell adults what to do, but she can support them, and participate in the same humiliating ritual.

_“So, tell me why you think you are here today?”_

Zakuro tilts her head, thinking. _Why am I here?_ Certainly, not by her own free will. If she had her way, she would be at home, in bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about her own death. “I’m here to make the Hokage feel better.”

“Feel better?”

“Even despots want to feel like they have a soul.”

**

Sai puffs his cheeks and sits back, resting his hands on his thighs, back straight. “This is when I take an inventory of all my faults.”

“Why do you say that?” the doctor asks.

“Is that not what this is?” Sai asks in a monotone voice. The doctor notes this change in affect.

“Curious,” she says, more to herself than Sai.

“Curious?” he asks, concerned.

“Oh,” the doctor says, “you don’t need to know why. It’ll be in your file.” Sai blinks, watching her scribble a bunch of notes down. He isn’t in the mood for ice cream anymore.

**

Zero rubs his forehead. “I have to be here to keep my job.” The doctor shrugs and jots down his answer. If he didn’t hate it here, he would laugh.

**

Sasuke, in an honest mood for once, crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. “Kakashi says jump, I say ‘how high?” He lazily moves his hand, a half shrug, really. A very _what can you do_ gesture.

“Can you give me an actual answer?” the doctor asks, “I need it for my notes.” The fifth time she blinks at him, he realizes that she isn’t being sarcastic.

“Because this is mandatory.” Sasuke frowns. The doctor nods, ignoring his pout.

**

Neji blinks. “To prove my sentience.” It might be because he used a big, fancy word, or because he has an authoritative way of speaking, but the doctor accepts his answer with no fuss.

**

Tenten looks sheepish. “I think I’m here because everyone on the team would complain if I didn’t have to do it.” The doctor sighs, because, after spending a day with them, she really can’t blame Tenten for coming to that conclusion.

_“Let’s talk about your childhood.”_

Zakuro blinks, sitting back in her chair. “My childhood?”

“Yes,” the therapist says, “what was it like?” Zakuro looks at the clock on the wall and tries to think of the quickest way to summarize what happened while trying not to sound ungrateful. Her life sucks, but she had a lot of privilege. She hates her parents, but they are both still alive, which is more than she can say or the rest of the team.

“I had a very structured childhood.” Zakuro says, pressing her lips together at the end. The therapist tilts her head and smiles in a way that is supposed to invite Zakuro to speak but does the opposite. She has never trusted anyone who thinks that childhood defines who a person becomes.

“What does that mean?” the doctor asks, after a few minutes of painful silence. Zakuro’s lip twitches.

“I went to a private school. I had dance lessons and I learned five languages, in addition to Japanese.” It’s why she had been recruited to Anbu, besides her mutation. Shikamaru, in his own words, wanted to broaden the scope of their missions, and having a polyglot on the team would be a crucial step to taking them beyond ‘the kill squad,’ as Sasuke put it.

“What other languages do you speak?”

“Chinese, English, French, German, Spanish.” She shrugs, “I travelled a lot for work, when I started modelling and acting.”

“How old were you?” the doctor asks.

“I was twelve.” Zakuro had immediately accepted her recruitment. Her parents hadn’t been very enthusiastic, but they figured she would learn a lot by travelling, perhaps meet a rich man and settle down when she was old enough. Her mother was always fussing over her hair and clothes, angry that Zakuro was growing bigger yet impatient for her to be old enough to be set up with young men of her mother’s choosing. There was a lot of confusing messaging in that house.

Shit didn’t really hit the proverbial fan when Zakuro told her parents that she likes girls. Her mother had cried out, horrified, while her father said nothing. Zakuro had been away in Paris over the spring and had met another girl there. Both fifteen, she had asked her parents if her girlfriend could visit with them for a month in the fall. When her mother asked why, Zakuro told them that she was in love.

Her mother asked what they had done to deserve this— _why do you hate us, when all we have ever done is take care of you?_ Zakuro had been speechless. Her father looked on as her mother told her to go up to her room, and never speak of this again. Her father came upstairs with silver choker, with her named engraved in it, a gift for her birthday, which was three weeks away. He told her that she was being sent to Tokyo to be with her grandparents. Her girlfriend lived over in the next state. Her parents had, effectively, torpedoed her first relationship.

Then she moved to Japan, went to an exhibit on conservation and became a Mew. The genes of the grey wolf are now mixed with her own. She became an actual freak. _Thanks Mom_. Her inner wolf paces around inside of her, over this questioning.

The thing with being an idol is that it gave her financial autonomy. Since being shipped out to Japan all those years ago (thirteen, actually), she hasn’t contacted her parents. She last saw them in person at her grandfather’s funeral, who had died after her grandmother. She has his trench coat and the silver crucifix her grandmother wore. She wore them and the choker at the funeral, and she didn’t return either of her parents’ hugs. Her mother sometimes calls and insists on sending care packages on Christmas. But they don’t have a real relationship. It’s embarrassing, especially since everyone on her team lost their parents when they were children. It makes her feel ungrateful, even though she knows that her mother would have crushed her spirit, if she hadn’t bailed when she did.

She still wears the choker, sometimes. It’s a _fuck you_ to her spineless father; she hopes every time he sees it in a picture, he remembers what he let her mother do.

“Twelve,” the doctor says, “that’s a young age. Was fame dehumanizing?” Zakuro shrugs.

“We are all objects in someone’s fantasy.” Who is she to judge?

“Zakuro, how do you feel about your parents letting you do that at such a young age?” the doctor asks these questions like all parents innately care for their children. _Did they never teach you that some parents only have kids because they have to?_ Zakuro is convinced that’s why her parents had her. That’s what people like them do: go to private school, go to a prestigious university, get married, have a baby.

“I don’t feel anything.” Zakuro tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “They thought it was dumb.”

“Dumb?”

“Yes.” Zakuro sits a little straighter. “Our problems didn’t really start until they found out that I’m gay.” She never told them about being a Mew. If being an idol was contemptible, being gay a crime, she can’t imagine how being a mutant would go down. She would probably, finally, be disowned. _Good riddance_.

“Ah,” the doctor says, jotting down a few notes. “How did they react?” Zakuro imagines that she is glad to have finally found a way into her psyche.

“My father sided with my mother, who did not react well.” Zakuro still thinks about what her mother told her before she got on the airplane to Tokyo. _There is nothing worse than when your child spits in your face_. Zakuro had frowned and said that surely, it would be worse if she died in a fiery plane crash. Her mother pursed her lips and said nothing. _That_ stung.

“Tell me about her,” the doctor says, “what is she like?”

“She is an odious woman,” Zakuro replies. She wears suits and heels, her hair always in a chignon. Always has one spritz of Chanel No. 5 on the base of her throat. Her mother thinks poor people just don’t work hard enough and cares more about her investment portfolio than actual people.

“You don’t like her, do you?”

“She would find it easier to accept my death than my sexuality.” Zakuro bets that her teammates’ parents, may they all rest in eternal peace, wouldn’t really care about having a gay kid. They’d just want their kids to be happy and healthy.

“You think so?” the doctor asks, “she brought you into this world.”

“I resent her for it every day.” Zakuro deadpans. The doctor frowns.

“Is that suicidal ideation?” Zakuro laughs at the question, because it’s hilarious, all of it. Not wanting to have been born isn’t the same as wanting to die. It’s also rich to hear someone try and make her mother sound like a not-so-bad person, or like she is the kind of parent who wants Zakuro to be happy. Her mother doesn’t like who she is; her sexuality may be her most glaring ‘flaw,’ but her mother wouldn’t like her work. No one spends $50, 000 USD a year on private school, plus whatever they spent on dance lessons and tutoring, for their child to become an armed operative in a shitty town that is barely independent of Japan. _You are an idiot, ha ha_. But this doctor is also, more likely than not, happy. Being dumb has its perks.

**

Sai blinks at the question. This one always confuses him, because the answer is already in his file. The doctor could literally just read it instead of traumatizing him all over again. Since his emotions and personality have become unrepressed (if that is even a real word), Sai has found it harder and harder to shrug some things off. Missions that used to be easy are now harder, and that’s because in order to have morals, you have to have feelings about what you’re doing.

The thing is that Anbu is a significant piece of his personality. He doesn’t really remember what he was like before he was recruited and trained. He remembers his mother’s smile, his father’s laugh, and a little bit about the day they died, but everything else is stuff he figured out later. He found out about his parents’ grisly manner of death a few years ago, and that’s because Tenten went looking for the file. He remembers the training he underwent for Root, but it’s the kind of thing that feels like it happened to someone else. His feelings of inadequacy, well, they began when he first became a member of Team Seven and realized that being close to other people could feel nice.

But none of this has any bearing on his childhood. In all honesty, it’s like a big, blank slate. So much of it was repressed, that it’s kind of ridiculous to ask him to remember it. Like, sure, his childhood definitely affected him, but there is no way of knowing what actually happened. The real trauma of Sai’s childhood is that, while he ostensibly knows what happened, he can’t actually remember it. Imagine: an enormous chunk of time, completely unaccounted for. He was alive and sentient, but Danzo was thorough in his systematic destruction of Sai’s personality. He often wonders if Tenten would love him more if he had his original personality, and not the one he has recovered. _I bet you were always sweet_ , she said, her palm to his cheek. She cited his picture book for Shin as evidence. It makes Sai feel ashamed, because he was quite callous for a very long time, and it wasn’t until he met Naruto and Sakura that he could remember how the book was supposed to end.

What he, Neji and Sasuke really have in common is that the world succeeded in making them mean people, and while they are trying to be different, it is impossible to fully let go of that meanness or square it with who they are now.

The doctor tilts her head, looking at him think through her question. “Sai, can you answer the question?”

“Well,” he says, “I don’t really know where to start. I don’t remember most of it. I just know what happened, based on reports.”

“Nothing at all?” she asks, making a note on her pad.

“Root destroyed my emotions, personality and memory. I remember a bit of my parents, but everything I know has been recovered from old files. None of it is a direct recollection from my childhood.” Ino had offered to help him recover his memories, but he declined for obvious reasons. He never wanted her to see who he really is which, more often than not, feels like nothing.

“That sounds very difficult.” The doctor looks at him with a soft expression, “do you ever feel lost?”

“No,” Sai says, “I have art.”

“Is it a coping mechanism?” she asks, “a way of creating something out of nothing?” Sai frowns, because he supposes that he is the _nothing_ that she is referencing.

“It’s something I’ve liked doing for a long time.” Sai doesn’t really like it when doctors try to look inside of his brain. It’s invasive.

“Well, alright,” the doctor says. “Is there anything else you can recall?” Sai blinks, because the answer should be obvious, but alas, the doctor expects an answer.

**

Zero sits back in the chair, arms crossed. “It was screwed up.” He doesn’t want to get into it. There is so much that has gone wrong in his life, that it would be exhausting to repeat it all, again. The doctor sighs.

“You need to be more specific,” she says. Zero makes a noise in his throat. The truth is that his childhood was actually quite happy, until _it_ happened. It wasn’t a bad childhood so much as it is defined by a singular event.

“Well,” he says, scratching the seal on his neck, “I was bitten by a pureblood vampire, who murdered my vampire hunter parents, and my twin brother decided to go live with said vampire.” All the misery in his life can be directly tied back to this event. “I then moved to Cross Academy and became a vampire hunter.” The doctor frowns.

“Don’t you have a sister?” she asks, “the notes from last year mention a sister.”

“I don’t have a sister, only a younger twin brother. He died.” Zero tries to repress the memory of drinking Ichiru’s blood. It stabilized his 'condition,' and his brother is now always inside of him, but it still makes him feel like a shitty big brother. _I couldn’t protect him_.

“Then who is Yuuki?” the doctor asks.

“A girl I lived with.” The understatement of the year. But he isn’t going to admit that she is the person he loves above all others, or that she fed him her blood when he was deteriorating, or that he white-knuckled sanity for her. He certainly will not mention that she chose the man that set up his parents to be murdered and for him to be turned, that she now has a baby with this man, that she tried to block out all his memories of her. All these things, he will never tell anyone, not even Yuugao or Zakuro or Tenten.

“She was your adoptive sister, yes?” the doctor flips through his file.

“Technically.” He hasn’t mentioned her to anyone on the team, and given his far from fraternal feelings towards her, he would never call her his sister.

The doctor nods for a second, as she eyes the seal on his neck. It itches, which only makes him scratch harder. His personnel file has a record of what happened, and the measures that were taken in the aftermath of the attack. She knows what the seal is, what it means.

“Tell me,” she says, “how did it feel to be bitten?” The question makes Zero feel twitchy. His tummy clenches and he would very much like to leave the room. Unfortunately, he has to stay here until this evaluation is complete. This job means that he doesn’t have to go out on as many missions for the Hunter Association, and as far as he is concerned, the less he has to deal with vampires the happier he will be.

“Excuse me?” he asks.

“Well, it’s the moment that defines your childhood, does it not?” she asks. Zero thinks about reacting badly, what the consequences of flashing his eyes or showing his fangs would be. He’s never done it before, but not even Yuugao would let that kind of display slide.

The thing with this particular question, is that it’s pretty rude to ask someone how their violation felt. Like, how do _you_ think it would feel for someone to sink their teeth into your neck? Setting all the weird sexual implications aside, it hurt, a lot, and he felt Shizuka suck blood out of his body. He watched his parents watch him be bit, and then saw them murdered. The only person he knows who has endured anything comparable would be Sasuke, who was also bitten at the tender age of twelve and subsequently sealed. The curse mark isn’t there anymore, but you never really forget how it feels for someone’s fangs to sink into you. They’ve never talked about it directly, but when Tenten gets on Zero for touching the seal, Sasuke tells her to knock it off.

“It felt horrible.” Zero says in a small voice. It’s like he can feel Shizuka’s hot, wet breath on his neck.

“Aren’t you glad that you admitted it?” _What a stupid question_. He lives with it every day, sometimes dreams about it.

“No,” he replies.

**

Every year, when this question comes up, Sasuke always laughs. This question is just so fucking absurd. Like, what didn’t go wrong in his childhood? The doctor watches him laugh out loud, unimpressed. Sasuke has already decided that he doesn’t like her, so it doesn’t bother him.

“Where do you want to start?” he asks.

“Well, how about we start with your parents,” she says. Sasuke sighs, thinking about them. It’s depressing, how good life was before age seven. _I’ll never be that happy again_.

“They were great, honestly.” Sasuke says, “my mom was the best. My dad was a hard ass, and she made sure to counteract that. She always made me feel loved, even when my dad was being an asshole.” The doctor makes a note.

“Your brother?”

“Itachi…” Sasuke trails off, not really knowing how to talk about his brother. He feels so many big, unnamable things. Mostly grief and sadness. “Before it happened, he was a good brother.” Itachi always thought that he was doing the right thing, but that doesn’t mean anything when you murder your entire family. _But he was only eleven_.

“And after?”

“Well, he went and murdered the clan on Danzo’s orders.” Sasuke absolutely does not and will never regret putting Danzo in the ground. He had it coming, and if anything, death was far too nice an ending for him.

“And now you work in Anbu, the organization he built.” The doctor looks at him as if this is supposed to mean something to him.

“The snake eats its tail,” he hums, leaning forward to set his elbows on his knees. The doctor frowns.

“Is that a pun on your codename?” she asks. Sasuke sighs.

“Sure,” he replies _. I can’t believe you are paid to ask questions like this_. Maybe Shikamaru will read these reports and realize that they need to hire someone new, or better yet, cut back on the annual evaluations all together.

“That is awfully clever, for someone like you,” the doctor says. Sasuke blinks.

“Someone like me?” he asks.

“Well, yes. You are quite intelligent, but none of your past evaluations suggest that you are terribly self-aware.” The doctor thumbs through a stack of papers, while Sasuke just stares at her. If anything, he is painfully self-aware, now that he is sane again. It’s why he can’t open up, even to the people who love him the most. He knows he has a dumb expression on his face when the doctor looks down at him.

“Self-aware?” he asks.

“Yes, in order to be clever, you must first be self-aware,” she says. “Did I say something you didn’t like?” Sasuke rubs his jaw, thinking of a more appropriate response than _you’re wrong_.

“I’ve never been told that I’m lacking.”

“We are all lacking in some department,” the doctor says breezily, clearly ready for the next question.

“I think I’m awfully self-aware.” He replies. The doctor pins him with a look, and he wonders what the hell Shikamaru was thinking when he said that the doctor wouldn’t be annoying this year.

“Self-centeredness shouldn’t be confused with self-awareness.” Sasuke gawks, mouth open and eyes bulged, while the doctor looks down at her notes.

She waits for him to put his face back together, before she continues. “Indulge me. What advice would you give yourself at fifteen?” Sasuke, in a mood, frowns.

“Don’t get caught.” The doctor grins and points her pen at him.

“That’s the problem, right there,” she says. Sasuke rubs his temples, irritated.

“What problem?”

“It will cost fifteen hundred an hour, over at least twelve sessions, to get there.” She tilts her head, “or, you can try and find the answer yourself. I think you’ll find that more rewarding.” He says nothing as she grins to herself, shaking her head as she flips a page on her notepad.

**

Neji hates this question, because he loves his parents, his father especially, and would rather keep their memory separate from this gruesome yearly ritual. Besides, he has told this story at least ten times; it should be in the file. Not for the first time, Neji questions the hiring process in Konoha. _Do Shikamaru and Kakashi simply throw the applications down the stairs and pick the one that lands on the bottom one first?_

Neji sighs as the doctor waits for him to answer. “My father committed ritual suicide and my mother died of cancer.” A different kind, from the one that took his aunt. “My uncle raised me.” In truth, Hiashi didn’t raise Neji so much as he didn’t let Neji die from neglect. He only took interest in him after the chunnin exams. Until then, Neji had been cared for by servants and only saw his uncle and cousins at mealtimes.

“Can you go into detail?” the doctor tilts her head, trying to coax him out. Neji frowns.

“It is all in my file,” he says.

“But I want to hear you tell it, in your own words.” The doctor says, tapping her pen on her notepad.

“I fail to see how that would change anything,” he replies.

“It’s more about assessing how you tell your story, rather than knowing what happened.” The doctor tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “I want to hear how you tell the story of you.”

“How I tell the story of me,” he replies, “how stupid.”

Neji would be angry that he couldn’t keep his resolution, but the look on her face is just too good. Her face is frozen in a tight grin, like she is trying to keep herself from hitting back. _Now you know how your patients really feel_.

**

Tenten tilts her head thinking. “Well, my parents died in an accident when I was young. I grew up a ward of the state, with no last name.” She supposes that this would have been a traumatizing experience for most people, but it didn’t really do anything to her.

“Does that bother you at all?” the doctor asks.

“No, not really.” She sits back in her chair. “Everyone was decent, and I met Lee when I started at the academy, so I go hang out with him and his parents. I know that I didn’t grow up with much, but I don’t feel like anything is missing. I had a pretty average childhood, all things considered.” The doctor nods her head, appearing to accept this answer. Tenten eyes the clock and smiles when she realizes that she is over the halfway point.

_“What do you hope to get out of this?”_

Zakuro throws her hair over her shoulder without thinking. “A rubberstamp.”

**

Sai’s face freezes, in what he thinks is a smile. The tight kind that is uncomfortable to hold for very long. The doctor blinks at him, apparently unconcerned.

“Is that your final answer?” she asks. Sai simply nods.

**

Zero thinks about the kind of answer that could get him out of here. _Self-actualization. Inner peace. To know myself better than before_.

Zero is painfully self-aware, will never know peace, and hates himself. “I would like to keep my job.”

**

Sasuke presses his lips together and shrugs. He’s decided that he should cut his losses and say nothing. The doctor tilts her head.

“Silence isn’t an answer,” she says. Sasuke blinks at her. “You can’t leave until you give me an answer.” His lip twitches.

“A coherent sense of self.” He replies. It’s supposed to be a joke. She frowns _. This isn’t good_.

“Why coherent?” she asks. He realizes how much longer this will drag on for.

He groans out loud.

**

Neji laughs. It’s strange. Uncanny, even. The doctor smiles politely at him, clearly believing him to have lost it. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but certainly not… _that_ ,” he takes another breath to calm himself down.

“Do you have an answer?” she asks.

“To never have to do one of these things again.” He tucks a lock of hair behind his ear.

**

Tenten tilts her head, thinking. She does so for a solid minute. “You know,” she says, “the answer is nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“I can’t think of anything I want to change about myself.”

“So, you would say that you are, more or less, fully integrated?” Tenten smiles brightly.

“Yes, I would say so,” she replies. “There is probably some work I could do, but I’m happy with where I am.” Tenten really does feel like she was won. She gets to hang out with Sai and a cat all the time, works in Anbu with her best friend and Lee sometimes takes her dancing. This is all she ever wanted from life. Take, for instance, last week: Sai told her that she has big, pretty cow eyes, and it made her feel warm and gushy on the inside. He had said it in front of the team, none of whom laughed out loud but definitely snickered, but nothing could have made her feel bad about that compliment _. Someone thinks I have pretty cow eyes_. How could she not be happy?

Speaking of not laughing, Tenten thinks the team has come far. The world did its best to make them mean. Sai, Sasuke and Neji are becoming kinder every day. Neither became mean, but Zero is becoming more trusting, and Zakuro more open and talkative. They’ll never be loud or trusting or happy people, but Tenten thinks that they have made tremendous progress, and she will do everything to help them be better.

The only thing she wishes, is that they could see themselves the way she does. 

**

They are all sitting in the Anbu lounge, waiting for their assignment. Tenten is sitting on the arm of the couch, eating the lunch Sai prepared for her. He sits beside her, sipping a juice box, a glazed look in his eyes. It’s been a few days, but he hasn’t recovered from his annual forced introspection. Tenten looks down at him, smiling. Sai blinks at her. She bumps his knee with the back of her leg.

Sasuke sits beside them, doing his crossword puzzle and pretending he doesn’t exist. Zero sits in an armchair, Zakuro sitting on the arm. He is eating a sandwich, while Zakuro is eating some apple slices. Neji leans back in another chair, eyes closed, trying to get some sleep.

“He’s pretty when he sleeps.” Zakuro says. “I think he’s the prettiest of all of us.”

“Tenten’s pretty hot,” Sasuke says, not looking up. Sai makes a little noise in the back of his throat, as Neji lazily opens his eyes.

“You have a grating voice,” Neji looks at Sasuke. He opens his mouth to reply when Shikamaru walks in, holding a mountain of files. He has a sour look on his face, and they can all tell, immediately, that he is in a mood.

“What is the meaning of this?” he says, holding up a file. They see Sasuke’s name on it.

“Are those our personnel files?” Neji asks.

“Yes,” Shikamaru says, “do you think these things are a joke?”

“You’re not allowed to yell at us over our psychiatric evaluations.” Neji sounds bored.

“We do have some rights.” Zero adds.

“Why do you insist on being difficult?” Shikamaru asks. “I know none of you want to get better, but it seems like you want to get _worse_.”

“What did you expect?” Sasuke asks, “a breakthrough?”

“Yes,” he says, “I expect six Anbu operatives to have self-awareness.” It’s the bare minimum. The vein on his forehead pops, and Zakuro can’t help herself. She laughs. Shikamaru glares at her.

“Why are you mad?” Neji asks, “because a pretty girl is laughing at you?”

Gritting his teeth, Shikamaru breathes in. “None of this matters,” he says.

“Finally, we agree,” Zero says. Sai frowns.

“Some of this does matter.” He says in a quiet voice. Sasuke rolls his eyes.

“No, it doesn’t,” Sasuke replies. Sai blinks, and looks up at Tenten for some reassurance. She puts a hand on his shoulder, and everyone is treated to their strange mind meld.

“What’s wrong with him?” Shikamaru asks.

“He’s like this after every evaluation.” Sasuke says. “He just needs another few days to settle himself.”

“He always forgets that it’s just a mandatory bureaucratic hurdle. They aren’t meant to be insightful.” Neji clucks, “Sai, when will you ever learn?”

“Leave him alone,” Tenten says. “Just let him live.”

“Do we want to call this living?” Sasuke asks. “Seems like a pretty bare definition of life to me.”

“This is existing.” Sai says. “All we do is exist.”

No one can disagree. 

**Author's Note:**

> I've jumped the shark, lol. 
> 
> I've had this idea for a while now, and I think I'd like my next long story to feature this line up of characters. Zakuro and Zero are two of my favourite characters, and I always thought that it would be funny to watch them play off of each other with Neji's chaotic Anbu team. I think of this as a sort of prequel. 
> 
> I'm gonna go finish Teeth now. I have no idea if anyone has or will read this, but I hope you like it! I always love to hear what people think about the dumb things I come up with, and this really does feel like an experiment. I have some more of this stuff in my files, and I would love to know the level of interest (if any) in this kind of story.


End file.
